


Shake My Bones

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Gets darker, M/M, Psychological Torture, Stucky - Freeform, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, and torture in general really, but then it gets dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2222247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirrors and shop windows returned our faces to us<br/>replete with tight lips and the eyes that remained eyes<br/>and not the doorway we had hoped for.<br/>His wounds healed, the skin a bit thicker that before,<br/>scars like train tracks on his arms and on his body underneath his shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake My Bones

Nightmares replaced sleep.

Dying, dying, dying. Always dying, always falling, always unable to save him.

He would close his eyes and see blood and scars and sweat and perfectly pink lips. He saw Bucky. Dying, falling, dying.

He woke up with a jolt. 4:45a.m. That’s about as much sleep he could get these day. It was more than enough. Coffee. Research. Steve scrubbed a hand on his face, rubbing away the uselessness, the loneliness he felt.

  
He stood at the counter and drank his coffee, but then the coffee turned to blood. Bucky’s blood, and he could almost hear the screams. And he started choking and sputtering. He gripped the kitchen sink tightly. Spit out the coffee.  
“Fuck it”, he muttered under his breath and went to get his uniform.

He would find him today, or he would go insane.

 

XXXXXX

 

The winter soldier sat in an empty warehouse somewhere off Mexico. His head was pounding. His stomach growled. He took out the two guards manning the warehouse easily enough. Their measly storage of canned goods and dried fruit was taken care of as well. Most of his wounds were quickly healing but his arm, the flesh arm, still aching with the sharp pain of broken bones, torn muscles. That was definitely not healing.

He hadn’t had a dose of, well, anything in the past four days. Every time he tried to close his eyes a new memory erupted from somewhere so securely locked inside his brain it hurt to remember. They were only little glimpses, but they were painful enough to make him not want to remember anything else.

Bloody men. A screaming little girl. The head of a woman, separated from the rest of her body. Golden hair, blue eyes. He tried to wrap his head around all that’s happened.

It wasn’t easy. His mission, the man on the bridge. The winter soldier didn’t rally know anything about him except what they told him in the briefing, except the fact that he knew him, he’s alive.

  
He’s alive.

His head pounded harder and he let out a quiet scream. It echoed through the old building’s walls. He was in too much pain to go looking for him, and he felt utterly paralyzed. Not because of his injuries, no, but because in the first time in over seventy years, he was feeling.

And the feelings were strong.

And he screamed again. And again.

 

XXXXXX

 

  
There were three minor Hydra bases left in the world. According to Natasha, none of them were dangerous. At least not dangerous enough to send him. “And don’t worry," she had said in her sly, throaty voice. “If I find any brainwashed Russian assassins with long dirty hair, you’ll be the first to know.” She flashed him one gorgeous smile and the video message was over.

He chucked the thin tablet into his pocket and took his private jet, courtesy of Stark Industries to South America. There had been a very, very thin thread that someone’s someone’s friend had spotted a man with a metal arm a couple of days ago, but Steve would be damned if he didn’t check. He reached the Mexican border in less than thirty minutes.

This could be it, he could find him now, in a matter of hours, Bucky would be with him again. He smiled the tiniest of smiles to himself and set off to raid the six suspected warehouses.

 

XXXXXX

 

The winter soldier felt a shiver through his body. He was hearing doors getting slammed and boxes being thrown to the floor, but then again, it could be another hallucination.

He curled his body tighter, forcing his eyes shut. His broken shoulder protested, but he swallowed the pain and kept his mouth shut. But then the old wooden gate to the small warehouse tore off its hinges and he was sure, so sure that they found him, that they’re going to take him back and beat him and burn him and choke him. He closed his eyes shut. If I can’t see them, they can’t see me, he thought ridiculously, desperately.

  
The noise stopped. The silence was overwhelming. He heard a quiet, sharp gasp. And footsteps so soft anyone else wouldn’t have sensed them.  
“Bucky.” It was a question. It was merely a whisper coming from a broken man’s voice.

**Author's Note:**

> Richard Siken's Little Beast provided the summary. Go read it now it's so good.


End file.
